


can't stop the world with a medicinal cure

by fishyspots



Series: out of sight dear, but know i'll be right here [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alexis mentioned, David and Alexis had terrible childhoods, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/pseuds/fishyspots
Summary: Patrick gets a look at David's family dynamics before they got to Schitt's Creek. He's not impressed. But he's protective.
Relationships: David Rose & Johnny Rose, David Rose & Moira Rose, Johnny Rose/Moira Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: out of sight dear, but know i'll be right here [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669543
Comments: 50
Kudos: 454





	can't stop the world with a medicinal cure

**Author's Note:**

> please be gentle, it's my first venture to the Creek and my first fic in a good long while. 
> 
> also, I love the Roses. I think the town has changed them a lot and I think it's hard to say they still have the same problems as they did before. but it's really hard when actions affect others, so this fic is meant to be mostly about that. definitely no hate, mostly just exploration. 
> 
> the rose kids' backstory is ripe for telling. lmk if you're interested in a series exploring this further, because I have THOUGHTS.
> 
> title from 1964 by blossom calderone -- something about it just felt right!

Patrick didn’t know how he ended up here. It was getting to be a more common feeling for him, actually—the Roses had a habit of drawing him into their orbit. This particular trip to the cafe had been precipitated by Moira earlier that day when she stopped by the store.

“ _Day_ -vid,” she had said, leaning her hip against the organic soy candles, “I am positively bereft.”

Patrick had barely been listening to Moira before her dramatics had really kicked in. He had a great vantage point from the entrance to the back room. Just close enough to hear everything and interject if he wanted to, but far enough away that David couldn’t leave his mother to Patrick’s care.

Patrick’s attention was focused on the way a smile played at David’s lips as he talked to his mother. There was something patient about David when he spoke to his parents. Patrick watched David almost forcibly suppress his frenetic energy. He’d seen David fail to keep his personality and preferences at bay in the past; the dead motel guest was the best example of that particular habit. Today, through either patience or practice, David remained calm as his mother…occurred, for lack of a better word, all over their store.

She had already wrapped an artisanal shawl from the display around her shoulders dramatically. David hadn’t even blinked at that; he had just rung up the accessory and slid the receipt across the counter to his mother.

Patrick wondered how long his boyfriend could hold out against the unbridled drama of Moira Rose.

“The motel, already a drab and ultimately unsatisfactory domicile, is positively derelict without my only son. My eldest boy,” Moira urged.

David rolled his eyes. “I’m positive that Alexis has been in the room every night this week,” he sighed.

Patrick’s heart warmed, reluctantly. Surely their plans to try a new restaurant in Elmdale could wait a night if Moira missed David so much. Guilt twisted in Patrick’s stomach. Was he taking up too much of David’s time? The last thing he wanted to do was drive a wedge between David and his family.

“We can always push back our dinner if you want, honey,” Patrick volunteered.

Color bloomed high on David’s cheeks like it always did when Patrick let a pet name slip out. Patrick bit back a smile as the familiar red spread across David’s cheeks. If this time was like all the others, Patrick knew that the red would be extending slowly down the back of his boyfriend’s neck, as well.

He strolled up to David, who was standing near the cash register, the counter separating him from his mother, who was now gripping David’s hand. Patrick checked David’s neck, ostensibly tucking in the tag of his boyfriend’s sweater. David turned a suspicious eye on Patrick, who let a smirk ghost across his features. He’d teased David enough about his blush that allowing his fingers to linger against his neck made the blush intensify.

“Can we focus, please?” David asked, his voice coming out just a few notes higher than usual.

Patrick mentally cheered. David was _flustered_. A flustered and indignant David was one of his favorite Davids.

Moira threw her hands above her head.

“David, your cherub-faced amour is on board,” she said. “Can’t you spare an ounce of fellow feeling for your aching mother?”

“ _Aching mother_ ,” David whispered viciously, as though saying it out loud would reduce his desire to mock Moira for the phrase.

Patrick felt bold. He leaned his head on David’s shoulder.

“David,” he whispered. It was barely a word, more of an exhalation. “Come on.”

His boyfriend’s shoulders, which had been inching toward his ears, loosened infinitesimally.

David threw his hands in the air. Patrick dearly wanted to tell him that he was mirroring his mother.

“Fine,” David said. “Dinner at the cafe. And then we will come back to the motel so I can grab a few more outfits. That is all.”

Moira’s face smoothed into an impenetrable mask. “If you’d like, David. I shall ask your father if we are free to nosh with you and your sturdy gentleman caller.”

Patrick snorted, but thought he did an admirable job passing it off as a cough. David put his head in his hands.

“See you later,” his boyfriend said, muffled by his fingers.

Moira’s eyes caught Patrick’s own. Patrick tried to appear calm and…sturdy. He couldn’t allow himself to laugh before Moira left the store.

Moira huffed at whatever she saw in his expression and turned toward the door, still wearing the shawl she had grabbed earlier. Patrick opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it as the shop’s door swung open and then closed again.

“I charged her card for the shawl,” David muttered.

Patrick looked at him. “What?” He asked.

“I charged her card,” David repeated. “They didn’t get new accounts when we moved here, and I’ve had the number memorized for years, so.”

Patrick was touched and horrified.

“But you didn’t tell her you were charging her,” he said slowly.

David huffed. “I’ve learned that sometimes it is best to set boundaries with my mother where my father can hear,” he said. “Then I follow through on the consequences I have outlined and my parents cannot pretend they did not see them coming.”

Patrick blinked. That sounded…reasonable. Far too reasonable for a child of Johnny and Moira Rose.

When he voiced his thoughts to David, he let out a laugh. It wasn’t like David’s usual laughs, though. Patrick considered himself something of a connoisseur after almost a year with David. This laugh was humorless and tinged with something like responsibility. David’s laugh for Stevie was sharp with just a hint of fondness to cut the bite from it. His laugh for Alexis was indulgence wrapped up in derision. His laugh for Patrick was something else entirely. Something special that made Patrick shift from foot to foot. David’s laugh for Patrick was recognition and affection and self-deprecation all rolled into one. This laugh made Patrick frown. All of David’s laughs had a touch of cynicism, but this one had no sunshine to part the clouds.

“Dealing with my parents is something of an art,” he said. “My mother’s been in rare form lately, and when she gets like this, it’s usually the result of taking or failing to take some pill or another. Or she’s remembering taking pills and wishing she could still afford them. My father usually sorts her out in a week or two, but until then I try to contain the fallout.”

Patrick shook his head slightly, trying to fit this new information into his view of the Rose family. He opened his mouth to ask David another question ( _what does Alexis do to help when your mom gets like this?_ ), but the bell above the door jingled as a customer walked in.

David straightened to go introduce himself to the woman. “To be continued,” he murmured, but there was a note of finality in his voice.

Patrick wanted to say more, but he knew the moment had passed for the time being.

“To be continued,” he repeated to himself as David walked away.

* * *

The lights in the cafe were lower than usual when David and Patrick finally stepped inside for dinner with David’s parents.

“Twyla said they’re trying out mood lighting,” David said under his breath.

“But how will we read the extensive menus?” Patrick asked innocently.

David’s poorly disguised snort made Patrick grin victoriously. David had been slightly off all afternoon, and Patrick hoped that this laugh signified a return to normalcy. David’s fingers twisted around each other nervously as the two of them sat down. Patrick reached out to pull one of his boyfriend’s hands into his own. David let out a breath that sounded more like a sigh, impatient and fidgety.

Patrick ordered a tea from Twyla and went back to looking at his menu. He didn’t hear what David ordered, but he was confident his boyfriend had gotten his usual wine. Twyla had taken to keeping a few bottles that David suggested behind the counter and pouring for him specially.

When Twyla left, Patrick turned his attention to his boyfriend.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Patrick asked quietly.

The clatters and low conversations of the cafe served as background noise, but sometimes David needed to be handled gently. He needed gentle reassurance and a steadfast ear. Other times…well, Patrick wasn’t going to think about what David needed when he wanted Patrick to _make_ him talk.

Patrick shifted slightly in his seat, suddenly a little warm.

“My mother,” David said, each word sounding like it was pulled from him with needle-nosed pliers, “has been texting me all afternoon.”

“Well that doesn’t sound so unusual, David,” Patrick said. “You and Moira got lunch a few days ago and it lasted three hours. You two talk a lot.”

David huffed, frustration evident in the twist of his lips. “Thank you ever so much for telling me that I do, in fact, speak with my mother,” he said.

Patrick squeezed around David’s hand, still ensconced firmly in his grip. David wilted a little under the pressure.

“Sorry,” David said hoarsely. A glimmer of light reflected in his eyes. “My mom hasn’t been like this in…a while. It’s hard to see it again.”

Patrick melted a little. At first he hadn’t gotten David’s affection for his family, but it was fierce and it was always there. He felt a little more settled knowing that it still simmered underneath all of his bluster tonight.

“I’m sure your mom is fine, David,” he said.

Patrick knew that his own mom sometimes just needed a little bit of space to center herself. The same was probably true for Moira.

David was looking at him now. His face was unreadable, expressive eyebrows carefully neutral. Patrick squirmed a little under his boyfriend’s gaze. For just a moment, David’s lip wobbled and his brow twitched into a furrow.

But it was only a moment. The sound of the door made David turn, and sure enough, Johnny and Moira had arrived.

Johnny looked remarkably like David, as though one wrong move would crack one of the eggshells under his feet. His eyebrows were turned downward, and his mouth was set in a slight frown. David let out a little gasp next to him.

“Dad?” He asked quietly.

Johnny looked at David and mustered up a slight smile, though there was no real happiness behind it in Patrick’s estimation.

“Hi, David,” Johnny said tiredly. “Your mother and I were just talking about that trip we took to Turks and Caicos, do you remember the one?”

David leaned back slightly in his seat. He made an aborted move to turn his eyes toward the ceiling, but reined himself in at the last moment.

“I-I do,” he said.

Patrick thought his voice sounded a little wobbly. Had David eaten lunch? Maybe he should order an appetizer to balance David out while they waited for their food.

“How old were you on that trip, darling?” Moira asked. Her eyes were focused on a point beyond David and Patrick. Her voice was dreamy, as usual, and she seemed a million miles away.

“Fifteen.” David answered.

“No, no, I’m sure you were much older. You had just booked that commercial, you know the one! With the…ah.” Moira frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t remember the details. But I definitely remember we were celebrating. Oh, how we celebrated, dear, make no mistake.”

She turned her eyes on Patrick and gestured toward him. “A pity your beau was not with us in those days, dear,” she mused. “Though he may have been just a touch put off by your string of…nightly engagements.”

Johnny stiffened and put his arm around Moira. “Moira, we are not having that conversation now.”

Patrick had never heard his voice sound like that. Johnny was usually so indulgent with his wife.

David’s eyes had gone flinty.

Patrick set his hand tentatively on David’s thigh. It was coiled tight, as was his boyfriend’s entire body.

“How goes the store, Patrick?” Johnny tried.

Patrick smiled a little at David’s dad. He was making a valiant effort to diffuse the tension.

“U-Uh, the store is great,” Patrick said. He winced when he heard the catch in his voice.

He rubbed a little at David’s thigh, aiming to project comfort and solidarity. David was still wound as tight as a spring.

“We’re working on our next open mic night, should be happening in a few weeks.”

Moira set her hands on the table, which made the silverware clatter a little.

“Has the girl come by with the drinks yet?” She asked petulantly.

Patrick blinked.

David held up his hand. “Mother, you know her name. It is Twyla. She is probably just bringing you your usual drink. What is that?”

His voice was surprisingly patient.

“My son,” Moira said, switching gears entirely. She gripped David’s hand again, and it was only through careful maneuvering that David kept himself on his side of the table. Moira was certainly effusive. “I just can’t believe how far you’ve come! I believed you would be either dead in a ditch or still shacked up with that chemistry teacher by now. I must say, this look is altogether…much different.”

Patrick felt something catch in his throat.

“Okay,” David said, voice gone flat. His back was ramrod straight. Patrick could almost feel the tension radiating off of him.

“First of all, you are going to have to be much more specific than merely _chemistry teacher_ if you want me to know who you’re talking about. Secondly, mother, this is very important. Did you take anything before you came to dinner?”

Moira’s lip wobbled. Johnny’s polite smile had frozen on his face.

Patrick couldn’t bring himself to speak. He wanted to rub at David’s thigh again, but didn’t know if it would be welcome. David did that thing sometimes, that wrapping-his-arms-around-Patrick’s-shoulders thing. Would that be helpful?

“Day-vid!” She exclaimed. “I would never!”

David looked miserable. But, to Patrick’s eyes, he very intentionally didn’t look angry. He shot a quick look at his father, something quelling and sharp.

“Mother. I am not mad. No one is mad. Everyone is really happy you’re here with us. But can you tell us if you took anything? Or are you thinking about taking anything?”

Moira’s head dropped to the table.

“I’m just so tired.” The words were barely audible.

David jumped into action. He pushed at Patrick to let him out of the booth.

“Hey, hey,” he said. “I understand. Did you find some pills in Bosnia other than the uppers you took to get home?”

Moira nodded, head still down on the table.

“And you’re thinking about times when it was a lot easier, when you had things like those pills to help it feel easy?”

A pause, then another nod from Moira. Johnny rubbed a hand against his forehead.

Patrick was frozen. He felt like he was intruding on something really, intimately private. Something that the Roses had no intention of ever showing him.

“So you took a few of your pills. And you wanted to talk about those easier times just now?”

Moira wailed, a soundless, sad thing.

“Well, mother,” David leaned down next to Moira. “Those times were really…easy, for me. In the same way they were easy for you. It’s hard now. We have to be okay with it being hard. But we also have to get you back to the motel now, okay?”

Moira went limp.

David looked at Johnny. Some silent conversation happened between the two of them, and in unison, they each moved into action. Johnny fanned Moira’s face and called her name, and David ran up to the counter. Patrick found his voice.

“Is there—“

“Nothing you can do, Patrick. But thank you.” Johnny sounded tired.

“Are you sure? I can at least drive the two of you home. Did you walk?”

“We drove, actually,” Johnny said. “I was worried that the night would end like this.”

_And you still came out and subjected David to it?_ Patrick wanted to ask. He knew it wasn’t his place, and he knew he didn’t know everything. But he also knew, with bone-deep certainty, that Johnny could have protected David from Moira when she was like this.

“David’s so good with her when she gets like this, you see?” Johnny was saying. “It’s very hard for me to see Moira like this, and I know David has had a lot of practice taking care of her—“

“Taking care of her?” Patrick heard how flat his voice had gone.

“I got water, excuse me,” David’s soft voice broke up Johnny and Patrick’s conversation.

Patrick watched David dip his fingers in the water and flick them toward his mother’s face, careful to avoid her wig. Patrick’s throat tightened at the care David used when he shook Moira’s shoulder slightly. He watched his boyfriend roll his eyes when nothing woke Moira up.

“Moira Rose? It’s your agent. They said something about a feature?”

Moira’s head shot up. “I’m ready.”

Her nose wrinkled as she took in her surroundings.

A little bit of fondness was clear in David’s eyes. The vise grip around Patrick’s heart loosened, just a smidge.

“Yeah, okay,” David said. “Time to go.”

The four of them trooped out to the front of the restaurant. Johnny opened Moira’s door and David did the rest of the work to get his mother situated in the seat. She had gone quiet, but was still clinging at whatever part of David’s torso she could reach. David gently extricated his sweater, his fingers, his _hair_ from his mother’s grasp and tried to put her seatbelt on.

Patrick could only stand and watch while David got his mother into the car. _Easy for me too_ played in his head on a loop.

Once Moira had been buckled in, David stepped back to stand next to Patrick.

Johnny leaned over to speak out the window.

“David, are you coming with us or following in Patrick’s car?” He asked.

Patrick saw red.

“Actually, David has done all he can do tonight, Mr. Rose.” Miraculously, his voice was somewhat level.

David whipped his eyes toward Patrick. “What?” He asked.

“We have a lot to do at the store before the next open mic. Inventory, displays, clearing a space, you know,” Patrick continued. “David won’t be able to help any more tonight.”

Patrick very carefully did not look at David.

“I understand,” Johnny said slowly. “I suppose I will just…take Moira back myself. She should be fine in the morning.”

“Water,” David piped up. “Water, hang up the wig, tell her to brush her teeth or at least use mouthwash, and food on her stomach. The vending machine has pretzels, which will be your best bet. A cinnamon roll in the morning. The carbs will help. Try to figure out what she took and have Alexis text me what it is.”

Patrick felt his stomach drop. Had Johnny never done this? Had it always been David?

Johnny nodded and waved at the two of them, stiff and uncomfortable.

“We might be able to stop by in the morning, if we can,” David offered. There was something tight and worried in his voice.

“That would be a tremendous help, David,” Johnny said.

Patrick heard his boyfriend huff a soft breath.

“Well,” Johnny said, still lingering.

Patrick needed him to go. He was clearly waiting for someone to bail him out of taking care of Moira.

“Good night, Mr. Rose,” he said as pleasantly as he could.

Johnny frowned. “Good night, boys.”

The car pulled out and drove toward the motel. David watched it go. Once it was out of sight, he shook himself slightly and started walking toward the store.

“Whoa, whoa,” Patrick said, holding up his hands. David didn’t react well to physical touch when he was wound this tight, especially when the hands wanted to restrain or pull him. Patrick had learned that lesson the hard way. “Where are you going?”

“What do we still have to do at the store?” David asked, feet moving quickly. Patrick had to jog to catch up. “I’m really sorry about the dinner, I would have gotten us more time to finish up at the store. I know you were busy while we were closing and I should have checked in before I finished up, I just could have sworn you said we were—“

David stopped then, swallowing down some emotion. His face smoothed out a little, but it looked forced and fake to Patrick’s eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. Sorry I got us stuck for dinner like that. And we didn’t even get to eat, that’s my fault. Do you want to grab yourself something while I start on what I need to finish here? But, um, you might need to remind me what that is.”

David was twisting his fingers together again. Patrick hated this. His boyfriend was drawn taut like a string, so close to pulling apart. It was normally hard for David to apologize even when he had done something worth apologizing over. None of this had been David’s fault.

“David, David, hey,” he said before his boyfriend could open his mouth and apologize some more. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Your mom roped us into dinner, and I agreed. And you’re right that we were all done here. You did everything right earlier while I was on the phone. It’s all okay, all right?”

David frowned for a moment before his face smoothed back into a blank mask.

“Can I ask,” he spoke tentatively, in a way Patrick had only heard when the two of them had finally gone through their relationship histories together, “why you said we had to get back here, then? Did you just want to eat? Oh my god, we never even paid for our drinks, we should get back there and do that—“

“I will text Twyla in a little bit and cover our tab, don’t worry,” Patrick soothed.

He wanted to hug David so badly, but every part of David’s body said that doing so would be a bad idea. David was still fiddling with his fingers, eyes studiously trained on his knuckles.

“David? Do you want dinner? Should we go back to the cafe?” Patrick asked. Maybe that was why David was so focused on the cafe.

“What? No. I’m, um, I’m not hungry.”

Patrick frowned. “Big lunch?”

David sometimes had a tendency to snack all afternoon and skip dinner, but usually the two of them snacked together, and Patrick hadn’t eaten since his own lunch with a vendor.

“Ah…no.” David shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Feeling sick? Did you have the special at the cafe? Even Twyla should know better, fried fish in that kitchen is a recipe for disaster.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” David asked impatiently. “Why did you say we had to go to the store?”

Patrick filed away David’s discomfort over dinner for another day.

“I just didn’t want you to…” Patrick trailed off.

He couldn’t put the protectiveness he felt for David at the cafe into words. _It wasn’t fair_ , he wanted to say. _Your parents are taking advantage of you_ , he wanted to tell David. But those kinds of conversations had never gone well in the past. David and Alexis, for all that they constantly complained about their parents and told frankly horrifying stories from their childhoods, normally couldn’t stand to hear a word against the Roses from anyone else. Ted and Patrick had exchanged frustrated glances a few times over the same problem.

“Didn’t want me to what?” David asked. “It was embarrassing, right?”

He winced. “My mother can be a lot when she gets like that, and I know it was a mistake to take her out in public, but she had like three hours between when we saw her and dinner so I thought she might even out before we got there. That’s my fault. I need to take a look at what she’s been taking. Must be different than usual. Not that that’s any excuse, I should have looked into Bosnian—“

Patrick held up a hand. “Okay. Why would that be your responsibility?”

He tried to keep his voice neutral. David had a tendency to feed off of frustration and negative energy when he got keyed up.

David’s eyes widened. “What?” He breathed. His voice was barely audible although Patrick and David were standing close together. Patrick wanted to do this somewhere else.

“Okay, David, baby, I would like to do this somewhere else. Can you help me pick a place?”

Choices, Patrick knew, it was important to give David choices. David’s fingers stilled.

“We could, um,” he swallowed. Patrick frowned when he saw that his boyfriend’s eyes were bright with tears. “We could go inside the store.”

“Anywhere else?” Patrick prompted.

David frowned a little.

“We could talk at your place,” he said, his voice raising at the end of the sentence like it was a question. “We could go to the cafe, but there are other people there now and you don’t want to be, ah, around other people.”

Patrick nodded at David’s questioning look.

David continued, “You don’t seem to want to do the motel, so we can’t go there, and Alexis is still there tonight, so.”

“Which place would you like to go to, David?”

David’s hands picked up their frenetic twisting again.

“I really don’t know what we’re talking about, Patrick. Can we just talk at the store so I know?”

Patrick wanted to wrap his boyfriend up in a blanket and cuddle him until the end of _time_.

“Honey, of course we can talk at the store. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were really good with your mom tonight.”

Something gave way in David’s expression as he hunched into himself a little. The tears in his eyes released and trickled down his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he whispered miserably.

Patrick grabbed one of David’s hands and brought it up to his lips. “Let’s go talk a little more, okay?”

David nodded and let Patrick lead him to the store.

* * *

“Did-was it, um.” David took a deep breath in, held it, and let it out. “Was it something about my mom? Because she’s always been like this and I know I told you she had pill issues, so I just don’t know why we need to talk about it now.”

Patrick took a long look at David. After they had gotten into the store, Patrick had led David back to the stockroom’s couch. He’d then grabbed a soft, locally made knit throw and spread it over both of their laps. David had curled up on the couch, eyes trained on his knees. Luckily, he’d stopped picking at his hands and had instead wrapped them around his shins.

“I know about that, you’re right,” he said, fighting to keep his voice neutral.

David sniffed miserably. Patrick’s heart ached. He looked wrung out.

“Can I hug you, David?”

David nodded stiffly and slowly released his grip on his legs and shuffled toward Patrick. Patrick tucked himself into the corner of the couch and pulled David against him, chest-to-back. He put his hands over David’s to forestall any damage to David’s nail beds. David had a tendency to pick at them.

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” David asked in a small voice.

Patrick sighed and tried to put words to the simmer of frustration and fury roiling inside him.

“Seeing you take care of your mom after she said all those things about you made me angry,” he said slowly. “And it hurt me to see your dad just let you take care of her without helping. It made me feel like no one was—"

Patrick buried his face in David’s hair.

“Taking care of _you_ ,” he finished.

David turned his face into one of Patrick’s arms, which were wrapped around him. Sympathy shot through Patrick as he felt wetness on his sleeve.

“She’s always been like this,” David said.

Patrick had to strain to hear him, but it was more important to make David feel wrapped up and safe than to make sense of every word.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “And your dad never took care of her? You never put her in rehab?”

David snorted into Patrick’s sleeve. “We definitely put her in rehab. Once. Then my dad missed her and she said she’d stop, so she came home. Then I did it by myself. Twice. My father made it go away.”

_Do not leave to yell at Johnny Rose. Do not leave your boyfriend who needs you to yell at your boyfriend’s absolute idiot of a father._

“Why did he make it go away?” Patrick asked.

It wouldn’t do to make David worry about making Patrick mad.

“Career stuff. PR stuff,” David waved a hand. “He never had to be there for how bad it got. And he thought I had it pretty well taken care of.”

“And did you?” Patrick asked before he could stop himself. “Have it well taken care of?”

David tried to shrug, but he was too tightly wrapped up in Patrick.

“It got a lot easier once I stopped, ah, doing that, too.”

“I bet.” Patrick tightened his grip around David and brushed his lips across David’s forehead. “But it sounds like a lot of work.”

David made a sound like a wail into Patrick’s arm.

“I never knew when she would get like this or how long it would last. And Alexis was off in various corners of the world all the time, and she always needed important things sent to her, too. And I never knew when she would need them or where she was until I got her SOS, and my father was always gone.”

Patrick’s heart ached for a younger David, who had nothing to worry about and yet had everything to worry about. Who felt so out of control all the time. Who didn’t have anyone to turn to when he had to take care of his mom and sister. But he also ached for _this_ David, who finally had the control he needed but whose parents still expected him to swoop in and take care of everything.

Christmas decorations to recapture their feelings at the height of affluence, impromptu musical numbers to save face in front of the whole town.

“Shh, hey, I understand,” Patrick whispered into David’s hair. “That sounds exhausting, but you did a great job. Alexis is here, still in one piece. Your mom is here, and you did a great job with her tonight. And your dad is here now, too. They’re all right here, so you don’t have to worry.”

David’s shoulders started to shake. Patrick wanted to fling himself on top of David and protect him from the rest of the world forever. He wanted to stroke David’s back and tell him to let out all of the pent-up anxiety and stress. He wanted to yell at Johnny Rose. He settled for stroking David’s back, tapping away on his phone, and humming under his breath until David settled in his lap.

His boyfriend’s face, when he lifted it from Patrick’s shirt, was red and splotchy and perfect as always.

“Can we please go to your place?” David asked quietly.

“Of course we can,” Patrick answered. “But first, mushrooms okay?”

David’s brow furrowed. Patrick brandished his phone, where the online ordering window for David’s second-favorite pizza place was pulled up. If he had gone to the first choice unprompted, David would have felt pitied and tried to protest. The same would have happened if Patrick had gotten David’s favorite toppings, because Patrick so vocally hated green olives. But a sausage and mushroom pie was a safe bet.

A small smile made one side of David’s mouth twitch up. This time, it didn’t fade away into blankness. It stayed. Patrick’s heart warmed at the sight.

“Sounds good,” David said. “But you’re picking a movie or something.”

“Square deal,” Patrick said.

It was the closest David would get to acknowledging that Patrick wanted to comfort him after this conversation. _We’ll work on that_ , Patrick thought, _after I yell at Johnny Rose_. But he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. They would keep.

For now, he had to figure out how to make watching _Notting Hill_ sound like his own idea so David wouldn’t get his hackles up. “So eating pizza makes me think of _Mystic Pizza_ ,” he said as the two of them stood up. At the look on David’s face, he knew it would be a hard sell.


End file.
